


The Unusual Case of Saws and Trip-Wires

by Harley_Quinn13



Series: The Modern Knights and the Detective [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Consulting Criminal, Criminal Masterminds, Crying, Detectives, Emotional Manipulation, Explosives, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Glass cells, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insanity, Mycroft IS the British Government, Partner Betrayal, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Stabbing, Threats of Violence, Trip wires, Unrequited Love, Violence, british misa, sherrinford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harley_Quinn13/pseuds/Harley_Quinn13
Summary: It could be said that it was two women who broke Sherlock. Of course, there was Irene, but then there was his Angel of Death. She seemed angelic, hence her nickname, but on the inside she was a cesspool of all things twisted and evil with the world and the people who lived within it.   Jill Quinnly is the Angel of Death, she is the cause of man-made destruction and despair.





	1. Prologue

  It could be said that it was two women who broke Sherlock. Of course, there was Irene, but then there was his Angel of Death. She seemed angelic, hence her nickname, but on the inside she was a cesspool of all things twisted and evil with the world and the people who lived within it.

  This case was so gruesome and so horrific that Dr. John Watson couldn’t bring himself to write about it, he couldn’t even talk about it. It certainly didn’t help that Sherlock knew that there was something off about her. She was absolutely insane, and yet she hid it so well. She didn’t hide it because she wanted to, she had to.

  She did it for a different man, a man who was bored. The man behind it all. He was the master of puppets, the one moving the pieces on the chess board. And she was one of the pawns.

  She loved him dearly, but he would sell her out for a penny if he could. She, however, was his eyes. He used others to find information for him, but she could get closer. More often than not he hated sharing what was his, but this time? No, she would have to be shared.

  Jill Quinnly is the Angel of Death, she is the cause of man-made destruction and despair. She is the one who got close to Sherlock and eventually, slowly, stuck the knife between his ribs.


	2. Pretty Girl

 

   The streets were quite crowded the morning they had met.

   John was making his way back to 221b, and Jill was headed the same way. John saw the girl walking his way from the opposite side of the street. Her golden hair was about shoulder length, and she had pulled part of her hair into two ponytails, while leaving her bangs and the hair in the back. She wore an electric blue sundress. There was something that distinguished her from the rest of the crowd. For one thing, she looked like she was crying, but other than that, it had to have been how shockingly beautiful she was.

  By the time he got there and got settled, Mrs. Hudson had told him that Sherlock had another client. And there she was. The girl was seated across from Sherlock, who sat in his chair and stared at her with a look of concentration.

  “Hello Mr. Holmes, I’m Jill Quinnly. I have a problem, you see, my boyfriend, Lucas, he went missing. I have no clue who would have done this…” She began. Sherlock had thought nothing of it at first, it was just another girl who had an abusive boyfriend (which was proven by the busted lip she sported) that left her and she thought he went missing when really… he couldn’t stand her guts.

  “He probably got sick of you or something. Did you check the local pubs?” Sherlock asked her sarcastically as a way to dismiss her. All John could do was look down and hope that she had something up her sleeve, because if this guy really was missing she didn’t have a good enough case to get Sherlock’s help.

  “Please Mr. Holmes. You don’t understand. Sure he wasn’t the best guy in the world but he wouldn’t just leave. He… he got into some trouble a little while back. He met this guy, and at the time he was unemployed, and the guy got him a job, and we got ourselves back on our feet, right? But then, a couple of months later, he quits. And I didn’t know what kind of work he was doing for that guy, but it must have been something… awful. He kept getting letters from the guy, threats.  I think, no. I **know** that this guy got him. I even took pictures of our house from this morning.” She explained before showing him the pictures of her home. Sherlock examined them closely. The first picture was of the living room. The lamp had been knocked over onto the carpet, the glass coffee table was completely shattered. Millions of thoughts raced through Sherlock’s mind, but only one was verbalized.

  “And you said that this had happened the night before? Why did you only just find out this morning, this kind of damage would have woken you up? I’m telling you he left.” He told her once more in an assertive tone. Jill took her phone back and sighed.

  “I stayed at a motel that night, if you don’t believe me I have the records to prove it. It’s all on my card. If you couldn’t tell we had a fight.” She stopped for a moment to point to her bottom lip where it protruded out slightly. It was badly bruised around a cut which had already developed a scab.

  “It happened a few nights ago, I stepped out of line. Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing and I deserved this. B-but… he got so angry. I thought he was going to kill me. So I went to one of the local motels and stayed there for a couple days. And when I went back, he wasn’t there. I thought that maybe he was killed during a burglary or something. Then I found this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper. The hand writing made it look like a five-year old wrote it, but it told her to not go looking for him and that she wasn’t in trouble… yet.

  In Sherlock’s mind; the way he saw it, this could have easily been faked. And yet, there was something in this woman’s eyes that told him that this was real and that this man was in danger. His interest had been piqued, and her case was certainly less boring than the others who had shown up earlier. But, there was something about her.

   While she obviously had an abusive boyfriend, on who had gotten them into financial trouble nonetheless, she didn’t show any signs of it other than the obvious wound on her face. She dressed like she was rich, and she walked with confidence. She didn’t seem distant when talking and she didn’t stumble to find words. She hadn’t checked the time once, nor did she avoid eye contact with him. She actually seemed quite intimidating (Sherlock had also considered her to be quite pushy). And the strangest thing was that she pulled one of the obvious “I deserved it” lines. If she was lying, then she pulled it off quite well.

  “Okay. Goodbye.” Sherlock said simply, and all Jill could do was stare at him in confusion. John had walked over and showed her the way out. As they neared the door, she began to speak again.

  “Please tell me he’ll find him.” She begged. John felt bad, mainly because Sherlock seemed disinterested and -most likely- she would never hear from him again. But in the back of his mind, he hoped he could convince Sherlock to take the case.

  “We’ll try, miss.” He offered her a smile as he opened the door for her.

2

   The sky over the sea was grey, making the water below it almost as monochromatic as the sky itself. Jill had made her way back to a warehouse which was located on the outskirts of Canvey Island, near the ocean. It was virtually empty, save for the few minor details Jill had added. These details made the warehouse her own.

  On the inside, there was a single chair that sat next to several wooden crates. And there was only a single working light that dangled from the ceiling over said chair. A man with brown hair that was once well-kept and swept to the side was sitting there, his arms were tied behind his back, and his feet were tied to the legs of the chair. His head was hanging and blood slowly trickled down from the side of his head, where a large and worrying wound was. He did not wear a gag over his mouth, because Jill trusted him not to scream, and the last time he did scream, he got the nasty wound on his head. Jill opened the door and slid in with the grace of a snake slipping between blades of grass.

  “Oh Lucas!” She called in a sing-song voice, taunting the man in the chair. She grabbed a small sack from beside a crate as she moved toward the man and placed it on a metal table just barely visible from his position. The back made a loud clanking noise, which worried Lucas further. Something awful was going to happen to him, he could feel it.

   And as the clicks of her heals got closer, the man’s heartbeat quickened. His head slowly rose and his blurred vision focused on the nightmare that slowly approached him. The blue dress with a diamond pattern was almost circus-like, yet it fit her and her personality so well.

  She sat down on his lap and stared at him with the eyes of a lioness who had spotted her prey. He moved his head slightly away from the girl, terrified by… her. He was frightened by everything she did, everything about her sent a chill down his spine. And the fact that she worked for him, and she could be sent on anyone who he had bad relations with at any moment and no one would suspect a thing. It was because he never showed her to anyone. She might have loved him, but she was nothing but a torturing device for him to use. She was his last resort, his secret weapon…

     And now Lucas has to deal with her until he dies.

  “I’m sorry love, but I’ve found myself a new plaything. I won’t need you for much longer, I’m afraid.” She turned to look at him once more and saw the fear in his eyes. She grabbed ahold of the back of his neck and squeezed.

  “Hey, no need to be sad.” She taunted, and she let go before standing up.

  “Lovers grow apart eventually, it’s inevitable.” She told him in a calm yet chilling tone of voice as she bent over and reached into the sack she had carried to the table. After a few moments of torturous waiting, she came back out from the darkness. Lucas could not see what she had in her hand, seeing as she hid the tool behind her back, but he knew it was going to be awful, whatever it was.

  “And this man… oh my.” She continued and fanned herself while sitting on the ground in front of Lucas with her legs crossed.

  “The sad thing is that he’s been on Moriarty’s shit-list for a while now, so I’m barely going to have any time to truly break him. Oh well.” She says nonchalantly. Lucas’ eyes widen as he watches Jill take out pliers from behind her back.

  “Moriarty told me that he didn’t want you to be able to say a word after all this. Which I believe he meant that he wanted you dead. But I’m going to be honest, darling, I don’t want to kill you.” She told him bluntly. Lucas seemed to visibly relax a little after she told him this, and she smiled. He returned her smile, albeit it was still a nervous one.

  “But I was thinking; what would be the best alternative to killing you that would silence you? So I thought about it. I thought long and hard about it. And I had it down to two options! It was either sew your mouth shut, or pull out your tongue! Obviously the first one wouldn’t have worked out, you could easily go to the Emergency Room and get them taken out… and eventually you would have ratted us out. So I went with…” She stopped to grab ahold of his hair and tug his head back.

  “Option two!” She announced with a cynical giggle. This giggle brought the fear back to Lucas, and he struggled in her grasp. Short gasps and small whines came from him, and within time these sounds became annoying to Jill.

  “And I figured…” She began in an annoyed and assertive tone.

  “I figured that if you died because you bled out… then that was your fault! Not mine, of course.” She explained. Lucas let out a loud shriek of terror, causing Jill to flinch and look around before she directed her attention back to him. Anger rushed through her veins and seeped through every single one of her pores.

  “We could have been caught, Lucas.” She told him, anger and annoyance taking over the tone of her voice as she whacked him over the head with the pliers. He let out a loud cry, and then he began sobbing.

  “Please miss Quinnly, please don’t. I promise I won’t make another sound. Please.” He begged, and she smiled at him. This smiled looked genuine and it almost seemed like she was going to let him go, but in the end, she grabbed his cheeks and pried his mouth open. Reaching in with the pliers, she grabbed ahold of the slimy, pink muscle that was his tongue and began to pull.

  There were several wet sounds that came from his mouth as she tugged harder. Eventually, there were the sounds of ripping flesh and squirting as blood began to overflow his mouth and drip down from the corners of his open jaw. Cries of pain echoed throughout the abandoned building, and soon, they stopped. She pulled the tongue out from his open mouth and examined the small muscle. It dripped with a mixture of blood and saliva which made a small puddle on the concrete floor.

  Lucas’ head hung facing the ceiling, his eyes still open, but his breathing had stopped. Jill looked at him after throwing his tongue in the corner of the room… somewhere. Lucas had died from shock, and that was how Sherlock was going to find him, dead in a chair, his tongue missing.


End file.
